Becoming Her Demons
by CathyCat2709
Summary: She says she's a monster. The things she did are unforgiveable. But what about the things others did to her? It was their training that shaped her into a killer after all. Very detailed exploration of Sara's thoughts and emotions during her time with the League of Assassins. (There will be some Nyssara down the road)
1. Drowning Once More

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of the characters from the DCTV shows.**

 **Also trigger warning for nearly drowning.** **Author's note at the end.**

* * *

She's drowning.

Again.

The water is pulling her under and whirling her around until she looses her sense of up and down.  
Sara isn't sure anymore if she is actually hitting rocks and broken pieces of the freighter or if it's the sheer strength of the sea tossing her around like a puppet that's bruising every inch of her body.

And the burning.

The burning of panic in her mind and salt water in her lungs when she can't stop herself from inhaling.

And yet her whole body feels frozen and stiff in the cold water.

 _Up, up, up._

She needs to go up and get air. But it's no use to fight it.  
Her body doesn't listen to her commands anymore.  
Sara is almost relieved when unconsciousness finally pulls her under.

 _At least it won't hurt anymore._

* * *

 **A/N This is super short, I know. The next chapters will be much longer. (Seriously, some will be muuuuuch longer)**

 **I just wanted to use the chance to discuss a few points and tell you where I plan to take this story.**

 **The story will be slow plot wise because I want to focuse on Sara's thoughts and emtions.** **I'll be digging into Sara's past. Really digging into the horros and the physical and psychological trauma she has experienced. I want to explore what exactly Sara had to go through to start considering herself a monster.**

 **Of course I research to keep everything as realistic as possible but I haven't studied psychology, history, martial arts or whatever I might need for the story. If you know more about these subjects I'm always willing to learn :)**

 **!Please note the rating!**

 **I don't want to make this story too graphic or explict but I hope to make it realistic and I won't sugar coat anything which is why this story will probably involve pretty much every trigger imaginable. So please stay clear if that's not your thing or if you are triggered by certain things. Stay safe!  
I'll list the triggers at the beginning of each chapter.**

 **I'll try to stick to canon as much as possible but I'm not up to date with all the Arrowverse shows, so there might be some mistakes.**

 **Nyssa and Sara's relationship will be important but it's not the main focus of the sotry. And it'll take quite a while to get there.**

 **Also please remember that english isn't my first language. I proof read to my best abilities but sadly grammar isn't my strong suit (especially keeping tense consistency and punctuation). I'll try to get a beta reader. Until then feel free to contact me about if you notice any errors, so I can correct them.**

 **I'll post the story on AO3 as well if you prefer that site. Same profil and story name.**

 **Have fun reading :)**


	2. Surviving Once More

**Trigger warning for injuries, suicidal thoughts and canon character deaths.**

* * *

Her senses come to her again slowly.

At first it just hurts and Sara can't even differ the pounding in her head from her burning throat and sore muscles.

 _It's so cold._

And there's sand and dried sea water _everywhere_.  
In her mouth and lungs, in her eyes, on her skin and hair, ears, nose, underneath her clothes, _everywhere_.

Still lying head down in the sand she inhales dust and dirt with her first conscious breath and her whole body cramps into a violent cough.

Moving hurts.

Breathing hurts.

She doesn't want to but her body leaves her no choice but to sit up as it tries to rid her airways of the water and sand.  
It triggers her gag reflex and suddenly she's doubling over, gagging and choking and coughing all at the same time, loosing precious fluids and whatever little food she had eaten in the last 24 hours.

When it's finally over Sara pries her eyes open. Tears blurry her vision but she can recognize the beach of an island.0

She isn't sure if it was _the island_ but it's an exotic island never the less and not home.

 _Why couldn't she have drowned?_

 _Why couldn't she have died on the Gambit?_

Sara sobs.  
Ugly, loud sobs wrack through her body and every breath and wail stings and burns, painfully reminding her that she is still alive.

Serves her right for even subconsciously believing that she could ever escape this nightmare. Or at least not be alone.

She doesn't dare to think about what happened to Oliver and the others.

Sara hasn't cried like that in a long time. Not since _before_.  
She couldn't allow herself more than silent tears alone in the dark if she wanted to survive Anthony's men.  
Still the tears dry out quickly. Her body just can't spare any more fluids.

It's mid day and the sun is burning unusually hot for the North Chinese Sea. And yet Sara is shivering.  
The sun dries her tears, snot and a little bit of blood within minutes.

Trying to wipe the mess off her face, she just spreads sand into scrapes she didn't realize she has until now.

The blonde is tempted to just lie down again and wait for the blissful black but she knows from experience that getting a sunstroke while waiting whether dehydration or hypothermia will kill her first is everything but a quick and quiet death.

It isn't far into the jungle but even walking a single step feels impossible.

Instead Sara crawls on all fours through the sand, inch by inch. Little rocks, seashells and broken pieces of glass are cutting into her hands and knees until she finally reaches the shadow of a tree just at the edge of the beach.

The blonde rests against the tree and and fully inspects her body for the first time.  
The light pink color of her skin suggests she must've been lying on the beach for a quite a while during the midday heat.  
Sunburn aside, the warm temperature may have saved her from freezing to death.  
She doesn't dare to imagine how much more her hands would be shaking from the cold if it was been cloudy. Or raining.

She remembers all too well how she could barley move her fingers for days after floating in the icy ocean, soaked to the bone.  
She's thankful that after months of freezing during the winter, summer this year lasted unusually long in this part of the world.

Wherever this part of the world is.

Sara scans the horizon.  
There is nothing she can recognize.  
No island or shipwreck.  
Just ocean.  
The beach doesn't seem familiar either. Though she hadn't been on Lian Yu long enough to get to know every part of the island.

She wonders how far the current had washed her away.  
Not that anyone would find her regardless of which island she is stranded on.

There probably isn't anyone left to find her.

Sara swallows hard and bans the thought out of her head.

She needs to focus. One problem at a time.  
First she needs to find out how badly she's hurt.

Her clothes are partially ripped and had dried stuck to her skin but at least she's wearing actual clothes this time.  
Bruises, scrapes, cuts and raw patches are scattered all over her body. Though not all of them are recent. Luckily none of the new ones are very deep.  
Several of the bruises are swollen and feel hot to the touch. Especially her left ankle has an angry purple color already. A sharp pain shoots through her when she tries to move it.  
Sara lifts her tank top to reveal more bruises along the left side of her torso. No wonder she feels like she had been hit by a truck.

And the sand. There's sand fucking everywhere.

It would be just her luck to get her wounds infected.

Water.  
Clean water and a safe place in the shade is the most important thing now.  
Her stomach growls.  
Food will also become an issue sooner or later, too.

 _I wish I had been a girl scout._

The thought is so absurd and almost normal that Sara laughs, despite her body's protest.  
It sounds a little hysterical even to her own ears.  
As if girl scout tricks could've prepared her for this.

Maybe she should've watched Castaway more often.

Again Sara laughs though her strength barley suffices for a mild chuckle this time.

She feels light headed.

It seems like a life time ago.

Movie nights with her family.

Secretly watching one of Laurel's R-rated DVDs.

Arguing with her dad what the best cop show is.

Her mom's attempts to cultivate her daughters and take them to see theater plays.

Going out with her friends.

Sara's eyes flutter close and even though a voice is screaming inside her head to stay awake, the memories of her old life drown it out.

It almost looks like she's smiling in her sleep.


	3. Freezing And Burning

Sara wakes to a sunset that puts any postcard motive to shame.  
The pinks and purples match her bruised skin.

It's like the sky is mocking her.

She is too hurt and weak to walk far and find a water source or safe place to stay.  
She still isn't even sure if she's on Lian Yu or another island.

Without any tools she fails miserably at hunting, making fire or building a hideout.  
She didn't need those skills on the Amazo and later she had been careless enough to just rely on Ollie's and Slade's expertise.

She can't even eat from a bush of berries because she has no idea if they are poisonous or not.

Maybe being a girls scout would be helpful after all.

Not wanting to encounter any of the animals she has heard lurking around their camp during the night the weeks before, Sara somehow manages to climb up a tree.  
It's at the edge of the beach and Sara tells herself it's so she can see intruders come and not so she can look out for a ship to rescue her.

It's just her luck that rain pours down during that night.

At first Sara is relieved.

It washes away the dirt and moisturizes her skin.  
She can finally move her mouth and tongue without cracking the dried out skin open.

She catches the rain water with a big leave and downs every drop she can.

But her hide out in the tree does little to protect her from the rain and wind.  
Soon Sara is drenched.

The freezing rain pierces her skin and crawls into her bones.  
Her muscles soon give up on shivering and stiffen into persistent cramps.  
She feels like her blood stops flowing, like she might break herself if she moves.  
Everything seems to slow down and freeze.  
Her body.  
Her mind.  
Even time.

Even after it stops raining the night seems to drag on for forever.

The last thing Sara remembers is how ashamed she feels for yearning for unconsciousness even though she knows that she probably won't wake up again.

But she does.

And to sunny skies none the less.

Unable to properly move her limps, Sara just lets herself fall from the tree, almost breaking her neck and adding to the gallery of bruises on her body.

 _Fuck, that hurt._

When the pain from hitting the hard ground lessens, she crawls out of the shade to sit in the sun and thaw her body.

She feels like the cold might never leave her bones.  
It takes quite a while to even register the warmth on her skin, even as she watches her blue fingers slowly turn white and then red.

Her skin has split open at her knuckles.  
And any other joint for that matter.

Sara just sits in the sun until her skin is flaming red, stretching painfully over her still icy bones.

 _This is what hell must be like, freezing and burning at the same time._ She realizes for the second time in her life. _  
_

Sara could try to climb back into the tree with her last strength.  
Or try to find a better hide out.  
Or look for a water source.  
Or hope to stumble upon some berries or fruit she knows.  
She could hope that someone will find her.

But what's the point?

It's only a matter of time until she'll die.  
Whether it's from dehydration, starving, getting mauled by a wild animal or freezing to death.

So she stay's where she is loosing track of how long it's been since she washed up on the shore as she fades in and out of consciousness

* * *

 **A/N: I feel terrible writing this even though I know it wasn't my idea to put Sara through this, I'm just following canon. Nyssa did say that she found Sara almost starved to death.**  
 **But the plot will pick up a bit next chapter, so stay tuned.**  
 **Btw, I'll post new chapters every Sunday for the next couple of weeks.**


	4. Rescue Or Doom

**Trigger Warning for kidnapping and brief suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

Usually even the slightest sound would startle Sara awake.  
Since the Amazo anyway.

Before that she had been a very heavy sleeper and annoyed Laurel every morning cause her screeching alarm would wake the older Lance sister while the younger slept through it peacefully.

But this time it isn't a sound that wakes her.

It's a fierce grip on her foot that yanks her up to her feet and out of her sleep.

Despite being barley conscious yet, Sara's survival instincts kick in and she blindly fights against it.  
Adrenalin is numbing her pain for a short moment.

Whatever strength she has left just isn't enough and runs out rather quickly.

Finally her head stops spinning enough to be able to focus on the sight before her.  
She meets piercing, unmoving eyes that watch her fruitless attempts to get away or hurt the stranger.  
Everything else fades into a black, human shaped blotch around the eyes.

The person is barley Sara's height and a bit more lanky but their grip is strong enough for someone twice their size.

A noise she finally makes it trough the pounding in her head and draws her attention away from whoever pulled her from her hiding spot.

Sara notices two more black figures several feet away on the beach.

They're talking in a language she can't understand. It's neither Mandarin or Japanese nor Russian or any European language she has heard before.  
One person is roughly her size, the other much taller.

Both have bows in their hands and the hope that shoots through Sara for just a split seconds makes her forget to struggle.

But of course it isn't Oliver.

The person is too big and bulky.  
The hood isn't even green.

Sara wants to cry.

The person holding her speaks up to draw the attention of the other two and to Sara's horror it's the cracking voice of a teenage boy.

The smaller one of the other two steps towards them.  
Again all the blonde is able to see is a set of eyes focused on her, everything else is hidden beneath black clothing.  
She might not be able to recognize the language but she can recognize the tone of giving orders. This one is clearly the leader.  
And despite the lower pitch of the language she can tell it's a woman.

Sara isn't sure if that scares or comforts her.

The only women she saw in the last - what was it? Two years? - were either abused prostitutes, tortured lab rats or despite their skills killed off like Shado.

What does a woman around here have to do to become a leader?

"Please." the blonde pleads despite her hoarse throat and the bleeding in her mouth that pealing her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth causes.

 _Please don't hurt me._

 _Please just let me die._

She isn't sure what she's asking for.  
And even if the woman speaks English, her whispered word is barley understandable to her own ears.

Again the woman gives the other two orders.

Sara hasn't realized that her full body weight is help up by the boy until he lets go and the woman basically has to catch her from falling.  
She lifts the blondes right arm around her shoulder and pulls Sara forward to stumble along.

Her injured ankle and weak knees protest and give out under her weight.  
Every single muscle seems to be stiff and unwilling to move.

It hurts to breath.

"Please." she repeats as the woman drags her to her feet again.

 _I can't take anymore._

 _Please just kill me now._

The woman pays her no mind. Instead she calls out to her men as she basically carries Sara towards what she now realizes is a high speed boat.

Sara isn't sure why her heart jumps at the sight of this piece of modern technology.  
It looks so normal that the she almost expects to finally see normal civilization at the end of the trip.

If only the people manning the boat weren't clad in black leather and carrying medieval weapons.

Sara can feel her heart pounding hard in her chest and her throat closing up in panic.

"No, please, no!" she croaks out.

 _Let me go!_

 _Don't do this to me!_

God knows where Sara suddenly draws the strength from but she digs her heels into the sand and tries to worm her way out of the woman's grip.  
She pushes and pulls, begs, kicks and claws at black leather but she can't escape.  
She's probably hurting herself more than her captor.

Anthony's men would've screamed at her and beat her into submission by now. They hated that she was ranked above them under Anthony's protection.

But this woman barley glances at her.  
She just adjusts her grip and steadily drags Sara towards the boat, no matter how much she fights her captor.  
She lifts the blonde over the railing. The boy helping her to makes sure Sara doesn't fall once she's on the boat.

They handle her like she's a little child that weights nothing.

Sara is so stunned that she doesn't even feel the pain that standing on her hurt ankle causes.

With all of them aboard the large man starts the boat and something inside of Sara clicks.

She slumps down as if someone flicked the off switch.

She has no strength to fight.

She has nowhere to run.

There is no use in even trying to escape.

She is utterly helpless.

The woman kneels down next to her, pulling the scarf down to reveal the face of a woman with Asian background. She's barley Sara's age.

Sara doesn't understand why that surprises her. She just looks at the stranger with wide eyes.

The other woman reaches out and Sara flinches away.  
But instead of hitting her or grabbing her face forcefully the woman wipes away tears that Sara didn't realize are streaming down her face.

Her expression is soft, smooth. Too smooth. Like a mask.

 _Hollow._

"We will take care of you." she assures Sara with an accent she can't place.  
If only there was warmth in her voice.

Or any kind of emotion that the blonde could read.

Or maybe it's Sara who is just incapable of comprehending and interpreting anything right now.

The woman picks her up bridal style and places her on a pile of blankets that looks almost like a bed waiting for her.  
Her strength is so effortless it almost seems detached from her body. No one would suspects she's lifting something or even moving when looking just at her face.

Sara feels like a bystander, like she is only watching the scene unfold.

A helpless child.

* * *

 **A/N: Yay, Sara finally gets off the island and we met some League members. Revealing who the woman is is probably not going to be a suprise to any of you :P**  
 **How do you feel about the length of this chapter?**  
 **Chapter 6 is going to be a little more than twice as long and I'm considering to split it in the middle because I find it a little difficult to read super long chapters on my phone or laptop but I also don't want to interrupt the flow of a scene by cutting it in half.**


	5. Run

Sara isn't sure if she spent the boat trip awake or asleep.  
Her eyes aren't closed but she can't remember anything.

One of the hooded figures, the boy, touches her shoulder and she jumps to her feet.

They've reached a wooden wharf at another island.

"Can you walk?" he asks, his voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

Sara realizes he must've asked several times already.

Her mind is numb.

She doesn't even have the brain capacity to process the pain her body is in. It's all a dull throbbing in the back of her mind as she struggles to understand the question the boy had asked her and find the answer.

Sara nods though she has no idea where she gets the energy from to even stand upright.

The other two are already standing on the dock. The woman is tying the boat to the dock and the man holds out his hand to assist her.

For the first time Sara notices that the skin around his eyes is black, almost dark enough to blend in with the scarf.

 _A black man, an Asian woman and a white teenage boy. What an odd group._

She hesitates to accept the man's help but the boy nudges her forward and she grasps the first thing that will keep her from falling.

The man basically lifts her with one arm from the boat to the dock.

Sara feels solid, even ground beneath her feet for the first time in a long time.  
No rocking boat, no sand or grass or rough rocks. Just an even, wooden floor.

The decision is made in a heartbeat.

With the boy still in the boat, the woman tying the ropes and the large man probably-hopefully the slowest of them it's her only chance to get away.

As soon as the man lets go of her, she bolts.  
Pain shoot through her ankle, her whole body but she ignores it as she speeds away.

She makes it barley a few steps.

Her feet tangle in something and as she's falling she realizes it's the rope that the woman is using. Placed strategically so it will turn into a trip hazard with a simple tuck.

Like she knew Sara would try to run. Her body hits the ground and she is out cold.

* * *

 **A/N: Can you believe I almost forgot to update today!**  
 **To my defence I'm on vacation in London with my family right now. I'll be on my way back home next Sunday, so I might not get around to updating until Monday.**  
 **I'm sorry for the short chapter, it's the last one before Sara gets to Nada Parbat, I promise. I'm still considering to split the next chapter with 3k words into two chapters. What do you think?**  
 **I'm excited for you to read what comes next because there will be a lot more interaction, Sara will meet Ra's al Ghul and she'll have to make a few very difficult and morally questionable decisions.**


	6. Awakening

**Trigger Warning for mention of being undressed while unconscious.**

* * *

Her head hurts even worse waking up this time around.  
Especially at the edge of her hairline just above her right temple.

Sara's eyes flutter open but even a hint of light makes her headache worse.  
She groans as she covers her face with her hands.

"Good, you're awake."

Sara jolts up with a start, eyes wide open despite the light, searching for a threat.

After her eyes adjust to the light, it takes her a few seconds to process her surroundings.  
She's sitting on cot, her lower half covered by a blanket. It's simple but it's the softest she's slept on since the Gambit.  
The room isn't very big.  
Or maybe it appears even smaller because the walls are made of dark stone like… like a cave?  
There is a heavy, wooden door opposed to the bed and a rug hanging on the wall at the feet of the bed.  
Small torches are the only light source and it's still too bright.

Sara quickly looks away from the flames and catches the sight of a dark figure next to the door.

She stiffens, sitting up straighter.  
Every instinct screams at her to get away, to run, to scoot back in her bed as far as possible.  
But experience taught her to show no fear.  
She just looks at the person stepping to her bedside.

It's the Asian woman that found her on the beach after-

Sara's mind flashes back to her last moments on the Amazo. To Ollie and Slade and Peter and Anatoly. All of them who just wanted to go home and ended up-

If the woman sees the tears welling up in blue eyes, she doesn't react to it.  
She's clad all in black again.

Sara takes in her attire fully for the first time.  
Black leather with studs. Like something out of a fantasy movie.  
But this time without the scarf and hood, revealing her young face and long, dark hair. And she isn't carrying bow and arrows either.

"How are you feeling?"

Sara looks at her bewildered.  
She survived drowning and is held hostage. Again.  
She had been on the brink of death on that island.

"Fine." is her short response and it may sound a little more defensive than originally intended.

But truth to be told she does feel relatively well. Much better than when she woke up on the beach if it wasn't for the headache.  
Sara doesn't dare to leave the stranger out of her sight but mentally checks her body.  
She's rested and hydrated. Someone definitely tended her wounds, washed her and dressed her in new clothes. The fabric is much softer and looser than her jeans and tank top.

There's the faint memory of sound, smell, touch…

The sound of helicopter, the smell of leather, the feeling of cold water… like parts of a forgotten dream or memories from when she's half asleep.  
Her cheeks burn in shame and anger at the thought of someone seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

"Good. I brought you food." the woman places a tray next to Sara on the bed.

The blonde has no idea where it came from so suddenly, she didn't notice the woman carrying anything.  
She eyes the food suspiciously.

A bowl with oatmeal and yoghurt, a spoon and a bottle of water.  
It reminds her of the pulp she got in the hospital after getting her appendix removed at the age of fifteen.  
After eating mainly fish and small mammals that were still half raw and half burned after being roasted above their camp fire her stomach growls at the memory of the taste of normal food.

But it all reminds her a little too much of how Anthony treated her.  
How he lulled her in with false security and pretend care.  
Except he made sure she saw his behavior as kind while this woman doesn't even smile at her.

"Don't fret, it's not poisoned. If I desired your death, you'd be so already," she assures the blonde and Sara isn't sure if it's just the way the sentences was formed or if the accent and clothes add to making her sound like she just stepped out of a Robin Hood movie.

"I know." Sara mutters and picks up the spoon and bowl.

That's what scares her.  
What does this woman want with her?  
Why is she taking her in, tending her injuries, feeding her?

She picks up the spoon absent minded as she watches the woman placing the tray next to the bed.  
Sara suppresses a moan at the first taste.

Who would've thought that warm oatmeal can taste so fucking good?

"If you allow me, I would like to check your wounds while you eat."

"It's not like I could stop you." the blonde scoffs with her mouth full.  
She has to pace herself to eat at an almost normal speed and not choke on the food.

It's not smart to get sassy but Sara is getting fed up.  
She's fed up with being at the mercy of others.  
She's fed up with not knowing what's happening.  
She's fed up with being scared of the consequences.

She stares at the woman, wordlessly daring her to a reaction.

"And still I am asking for your permission." the woman replies, lips pursed.  
She's not riled up by Sara's behavior at all. She seems rather pleased the more lively her prisoner gets.  
That takes Sara aback.

"So, I could say… no?"  
That definitely sounds like a trap.  
Getting to say no isn't something she had the privilege of doing lately.

"Of course. It would be wiser to let me check your wounds but you are free to tend to them yourself."

Sara almost snorts.

She isn't _free_.  
She probably will never be truly free again but having a choice in how she is treated has almost become a foreign concept to her.

Suddenly she isn't so afraid anymore.

Sara isn't sure if maybe that was the woman's strategy to gain her trust all along but she's willing to play along until she knows more about the situation.

With the bowl in one hand she pulls the blanked aside with the other and lets her legs dangle from the bed, sitting with her back leaned against the stone wall along the side of the bed.

She is wearing wide, black cotton slacks matching with her wrap shirt. Her left ankle is bandaged but otherwise than that her feet are bare.

The woman doesn't move.

"Go ahead." Sara verbalizes her permission barley taking a break from eating.

She watches carefully as the woman kneels in front of her and rolls up one pant leg almost all the way to examine her leg,exposing way too much skin for Sara's liking.

Shit, she should've thought this through.

"Most of your bruises and scrapes seem to be healing nicely. But we need to keep an eye on those that were infected."

The touches are all firm and professional but still Sara feels uncomfortable. It's too close, too intimate.

She wants to take her permission back.

But instead of voicing her discomfort she just continues eating.

* * *

 **A/N: YESSS, I managed to keep to my uploading schedule despite flying back from London today! *proudly patting my own back*br /**  
 **So, Sara is finally in Nanda Parbat (-only took me six chapters) and we finally get some actual interaction between Sara and /**  
 **I did end up splitting this scene in two chapters because a) I'm running out of pre-wirtten chapters. Splitting it gives me one chapter more of buffer which means I'll be able to keep to a regular schedule for a little longer and b) I didn't want the chapters to vary too much in chapter length. Jumping from 600 words to 3k felt a little /**  
 **I'm a bit self conscious about writing Nyssa because I feel like I don't understand her character quite yet. I'm going to watch the Arrow episodes that include her to get a better feeling for her but if there's a Nyssa fan among you who feels like giving me a few pointers that'd be greatly appreciated :)br /**  
 **Until next sunday then :))**


	7. Questions

**Trigger Warning for mentions of being sedated without consent.**

* * *

Nyssa inspects her wounds thoroughly.

"Some of your wounds are slightly infected. Which might not have happened if your body hadn't been dehydrated and malnutritioned to begin with," the woman looks up at her as she rolls up the other pant leg, "How long have you been on Lian Yu?"

"Lian Yu?" Sara narrows her brows. So she had still been on Lian Yu?

"The island we found you on is called Lian Yu," the woman misinterprets her confusion and causes Sara to hiss when she touches her bandaged ankle.

"You ought to be careful with your ankle for a while," she advises as she rolls down both sides of the slacks again and looks up at Sara, "but unless you try to make a reckless run for it once more you should be fine," she comments and something like a teasing smile is curling the corner of her mouth.

The blonde looks away and focuses on scraping every last bit of yoghurt from her bowl.  
Sara remembered the decision to try to get away but not actually running. She has no idea how she ended up here.

Wherever _here_ is anyway.

"Where did you plan on going?" the other woman asks now standing up and leaning forward to thoroughly examining the scrapes and bruises on her face.

Sara resists to squirm under her stare.  
It's difficult to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds.

The woman's dark eyes are so focused and intense.

At least the brunette doesn't touch her face like she did her legs.  
Somehow that would be even more intimate.

"I don't know. I woukd've figured something out." Sara asserts but ducks her head slightly.

Act now, think later. Typical mistake for her.

"Do not worry. You will learn."

 _Learn what?_ Sara wants to ask her.

"To be honest, I was impressed by your attempt. Most would not have made it that far. Let alone in your weakened state." the woman comments and steps away, apparently satisfied with her findings.

"Thanks?" Sara replies unsure as she sets the long empty bowl aside. She can't even remember what exactly she did.

"A few more days need to pass before I can safely remove the stitches. If you are lucky you will have slept off most of the concussion symptoms."

Sara touches the spot above her right temple.  
There's a suture on a big bump at the edge of her hair line.

She doesn't remember how it got there.

Which is typical for getting a concussion but the symptoms usually last for days if not longer.

"May I see you hands?" the woman requests, kneeling down in front of her again.

"How long was I out?" Sara asks, barley suppressing the tremble in her voice as she holds out her right hand.

"About four days. We kept you sedated after you blacked out from the fall." the woman explains as she checks the scrapes, cuts and bruises on the blonde's hand and her along her arm.

 _Four days_. The words echo in her mind.

The all too familiar feeling of panic rises in Sara.

If the brunette notices, she doesn't react to it but simply takes Sara's other hand.

"Four days?! What did you do to me- What do you want- Where am I?!" she's stumbling over her own words and if the woman wasn't still holding onto her, she would've scooted as far away on the bed as possible.

She accidentally knocks down the bowl with her leg and flinches at the sound of clattering shards that doesn't come.

Her captor catches it with her free hand before it hits the ground.

Sara feels her heart hammering against her chest, her body quaking from forcing herself to breathe calmly.

"Keeping you sedated helped your body heal and allowed a safe transport." the woman seems unfazed by the blonde's out burst.

Sara wrenches her hand away.

She wants a fucking answer, not some carefully chosen words that are meant to keep her calm.

"But why? What do you want from me? Who are you?"

There's a pause before the woman rises to stand.

"I am Nyssa Al Ghul, Heir to the demon." the woman, Nyssa apparently, replies as if Sara should know what that means, "I had orders to check Lian Yu for suspicious activity and to bring in anyone who would be able to give us information."

That doesn't answer Sara's questions. It only raises more.

Sara ignores her ankle for the moment as she stands up, moving past Nyssa, and paces along the small room. Cave. Whatever.

She just can't keep sitting with her back against the wall. Literally.

"Orders from whom? What activity? Who are you people?" she questions the woman – Nyssa - ignoring how the room is spinning in front of her eyes.

She turns around to Nyssa who is still standing with her back to the blonde facing he bed.

Sara groans at the feeling of something piercing her left side when she twists her upper body.

"Am I right in assuming that your cracked rib still hurts?" Nyssa dodges her questions without even looking at her.

Sara clenches her jaw.  
Partly because her side hurts but mainly because she hates the feeling of being left in the dark.  
 _Knowing_ can save her life.

Clutching her side the blonde drops back down on the bed.

There is one thing she needs to know even though it doesn't make a difference.

She looks up at Nyssa, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she's trying to suppress.

"Was I-was I the only one… you found?" Sara croaks out.

Nyssa doesn't answer.

"Please." the blonde whispers, holding her breath as Nyssa ponders how to respond.

"Yes, you were the only person we found alive."

Sara chokes back a cry.

Oliver is truly gone this time.

There's an iron grip around her heart that makes it difficult to breathe. More than her cracked rip ever could.  
It hurts so much more this time around when she knows how much Ollie has been through to survive and get back home. How much they had been through together.

At least that means that Slade is dead too.

"I am sorry for your loss."

Sara looks up in surprise.  
She didn't expected this stone cold woman to show compassion in any way.  
It isn't so much Nyssa's words as the soft tone in her voice and sadness in her eyes though the rest of her face doesn't show any kind of reaction.

It almost breaks whatever little strength she had to keep most of her agonizing grief to herself in front of a stranger.

"It's just not fair. We were so close to getting home," Sara sniffles and quickly wipes away the tears that escape.  
Just because this strange woman has yet to hurt her, doesn't mean she's an ally.  
Doesn't mean it's safe to show weakness around her.

"I just want to go home."

Sara knows it was the wrong thing to say the moment dark eyes harden again.

"Rest now. I will check on you again later."

The blonde is at loss for words as Nyssa collects the tray and bowl, takes one of the torches and close the heavy wooden door behind her leaving only the full water bottle behind.

It's not so much what the other woman said but what she didn't say.

She didn't say "Don't worry, of course you're getting home."  
She didn't say "As soon as you are healthy you are free to go."

Nyssa never said who they are and what they want from her.  
She's keeping the blonde in the dark on purpose.

Sara realizes she isn't getting home anytime soon.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so this has nothing to do with the story but I just came back from my first festival/convention and it was just awesome! I'm kind of the only fangirl/geek/nerd in my group of friends, so meeting people who are equally (and moe) obsessed with the same thing IRL is just so refreshing to not have to hold back any of my weirdness. (And meeting actors and bands that I would never get so see otherswise is really cool too)**  
 **Anyway, back to the story.**  
 **Sara is finally in Nanda Parbat but it'll take another few chapters before she meets Ra's Al Ghul and even more before she officially joins the League.**  
 **I'll try to keep it as short as possible because I know it's getting a little boring with such a slow plot but I'm having a lot of fun (pain, it hurts actually) to figure out what Sara is thinking and feeling, especially when there's no one around.**  
 **What do you think? Do you enjoy detailed, slow stories about thoughts and emotions or do you prefer stories with fast story telling and plot twists and character interaction?**


	8. Exploring

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the delayed update. I just moved this weekend and don't have WiFi at y new place yet. I'm uploading from my phone which is also why the line breaks don't work like I want them to. Plus I didn't save the editing I had done on this chapter, so I had to edit the raw version again. I hope next week will be better. Chapter 9 is written and mostly edited, I just need a stable internet connection.**

* * *

Sara barley sleeps that night.

Or at least she's guessing that it's night. She really can't tell in this cave.

Normal people, good people wouldn't have to hide out in a cave, would they?

The longer the blonde thinks about it the clearer it gets that these people can't be any good news.

Are they some kind of cult?

A mob?

Why do they dress like they just stepped out of a fantasy computer game?

How are they so strong?

When exactly is later?

Is it safe to fall asleep?

Will they sedate her again?

What if she needs to go to the bathroom?

What do they want from her?

What intel was she supposed to grant them?

Sara knows her breath is going too fast but she still feels like she's running out of oxygen as she gulps down more air. All these questions make her head spin from all these questions as she starts to hyperventilate.

Is it about the Mirakuru?

Her breath hitches as she screws her eyes shut. The picture of these already dangerous people using the Mirakuru successfully remains in front of her.

Will they let her go if she can give them that?

After what feels like hours of staring at the stone walls and door from her bed Sara can't take the worrying anymore.

She needs to do something.

The first thing she does is to press her ear against the door and listen so intensely she forgets to breath.

No sound makes it through the door.

Whether it's because the sturdy wooden door is soundproof or because there's no one to make a sound on the other side she isn't sure.

Sara wipes her sweaty palm that has been resting on the door handle on her pants.

What if there are guards outside?

In her experience no one takes kindly to strangers wandering around. And these people don't seem like someone to leave strangers unattended.

Should she risk a peak?

The bruises on her left upper arm hurt, like a phantom grip tightening around it. Even harsher and more unmoving than when the boy had captured her.

If that's how strong a boy is, she doesn't want to imagine what an adult member of this scary group could do to her.

Though she had been at the brink of death.

So maybe their strength is just a matter of perspective.

Yeah, right.

Still the blonde decides to stay put for the moment and instead walk around the room, trying to make out as many details as possible in the dim light of the torch.

Now that no one can see her, she does limp quiet a bit and also occasionally has to use the wall for support when she gets dizzy. Moving her and putting weight on her injured ankle hurts more than she previously let on.

The wall hanging on the other side of the room draws in Sara's attention.

Even in the half dark she can tell that the fabric the size of a king sized blanket is very colorful. There are endless amounts of detail, one pattern made up of smaller patterns.

Sara traces along a dark red spiral and furrows her brows.

The fabric swings back and forth ever so slightly.

Placing her flat palm in the middle of the sheet Sara presses forward without resistance.

Her head snaps back at the door. She winces at the sting in her left side from the sharp turn and listens carefully again.

The only things she hears is the rushing of blood in her ears.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, the blonde turns to the rug again and with one last breath pulls the fabric aside.

Sara's heart sinks.

The niche in the wall is barley as big as an elevator.

There's a hole in the ground and a large bowl with water, a towel and a bar of soap next to it.

It's a pit latrine Sara realizes, disappointed and relieved at the same time.

Of course it isn't a secret passage out of this mess.

At least she's doesn't have to worry about what to do if she needs to go the bathroom. And the rug provides something similar to privacy. Which is more than she had on the island. Or the night on the freighter.

Sara leans forward to peer down the dark hole.

She wonders where the excretions go.

Is there a sewer system?

Or does someone have to clean the pit?

She grimace at the thought and steps back, letting the rug fall back into place.

She's just thankful it doesn't smell.

Sara looks around the room again.

There's nothing in here except the door with a torch on each side, the wall hanging as a room divider, the bed and the water bottle Nyssa left behind.

The blonde sits down on the bed and picks up the bottle.

Feeling the cold glass in her hand she suddenly realizes how thirsty she is.

She is close to downing the whole thing in one go but thinks better of it and stops herself.

Licking her finally moist lips she sets the half empty bottle aside.

She really has no idea how long it'll be until someone will check up on her again and hopefully bring more food and water.

If the last year taught her anything it's that she needs to be smart with what little resources she has.

Sara spends the next hours between mapping out every inch of the stone walls, snoozing but never really falling asleep and thoroughly searching her bed.

For what she doesn't know.

Something that might help her survive this.

Ignoring the fear that someone might come in just now Sara has to use the toilet a while later.

It's an awkward position and too dark with the curtain closed and she feels even more vulnerable than when Nyssa inspected her body.

Humiliation and paranoia prickle on the skin along her neck even though she has been in worse circumstances in the last year.

Back home in star city, Sara never locked the bathroom door.

The other Lance family members were coming and going without it ever being a big deal. They had to share one bathroom with four people after all. Though they all tried to give each other privacy, especially after the sisters hit puberty.

But she had a room there. Her own room. With a door she could close and even lock if she really needed to.

She would sell her soul to have a place all to herself again. A place where she doesn't constantly have to worry about people wanting to hurt her.

Sara quickly finishes her business and washes her hands in the bowl.

As she dries her hands she wonders whatever happened to her own clothes.

Not that she necessary wants the dirty and torn pieces of fabric back.

But wearing clothes which aren't her own that someone else dressed her in makes her nauseated.

They even gave her new underwear.

Anthony at least let her dress herself when he provided her with clothes.

And he certainly never drugged her to the point he could do whatever he wants to her without her knowing or remembering.

At least not that she knows of.

Sara pulls the curtain back and is thankful for the light the torches shed.

At least until she looks at the bed.

Her whole body is frozen in terror.

The previously ruffled bed is neatly made up with somehing sitting on top of the blanket. Her water bottle is refilled.

No.

No, this can't be right.

She would've heard them enter.

She would've heard them make her bed.

She would've noticed if someone came in in the few minutes she spent behind the curtain.

It's just not possible that she didn't.

And yet the picture in front of her clearly states otherwise.

As if someone is pulling her strings, Sara walks to the bed and picks up whatever they placed on it.

It takes her a while to register the letters on the small jars.

One is labeled dexpanthenol , the other arnica

Ointments.

Dexpanthenol for her wounds and arnica for her bruises.

The glass clinks as Sara clenches the jars together in her hand, almost hoping to crush them, almost hoping to drop them.

Why don't you rub it on my wounds yourself?! she wants to scream.

Just drug me and touch me everywhere without my permission. Again.

With shaky breaths and shaking hands Sara places the jars next to the bottle and crawls under the blanket.

She feels like throwing the jars across the room and shattering the bottle and trashing what little interior this fucking cave has.

Like banging on the door and screaming at whoever is at the other side.

Sara has the overwhelming desire to claw at her own skin.

Instead she wraps herself into a tight blanket burrito and stares at the door.

She can't draw attention to herself if she hopes to survive this nightmare.


	9. Waiting

**A/N: Whaaat an update even though it's not even Sunday yet? Yeah, well I thought you deserve a treat after the delayed update last time. Plus I'm just super excited because the story is finally pickung up the pace.  
Thank you for sticking with be for so long! Seeing that someone wrote a review and/or added this story to their favorite/follow amazes me every time! (Btw Thank you Guest for pointing out that typo, I went back to correct it.)  
There will be more interaction in the future, not just with Nyssa, but there will also be chapters where "nothing" happens because I think that the League uses isolation as a very effective tool.**

* * *

Sara isn't sure if maybe she did fall asleep at some point or if staring at the same spot just blurred her sense of time.  
Or maybe it's the flickering shadows from the torch that hypnotize her.

But every once in a while she jolts out of her trance, sitting up in alert.

Most of the time it's a sound she made herself that startles her awake.  
Touching the bed frame, rustling with the blanket, breathing too loudly…  
Other times the blonde swears she heard something or someone on the other side of the door.  
But once she's sitting up, eyes wide open, heart beating too loud, she can never hear anything.

Sara can't tell what would be worse; imagining the sounds or someone actually being on the other side of the door.

Still she doesn't dare to leave the bed and wander around again.

It's silly to feel protected by a piece of fabric- like a kid hiding from the monster on their bed - but at least like this, all wrapped up in the blanket, she can keep an eye on the door.

The blonde still can't wrap her head around how someone entered the room without her noticing.  
She should be happy to be left alone. That they avoid her.

But the longer the quiet drags on the more it's making her anxious.

She needs to know what the hell is going on!  
Right now!

Before she can think her decision over she's already out of the bed and and across the room with one hand on the door handle.  
But before she can press down the handle moves on its own.

For a moments time seems to stretch and slow down.

Sara is frozen in spot as she watches the handle twits down under her hand without her doing anything.

Whatever instinct it is that makes her run back to the bed with two big leaps - her left foot almost giving out under her - she will forever be grateful. It certainly isn't a conscious decision to fling herself into a sitting position back on the mattress.  
Sara holds her breath as the door creaks open, praying she was fast enough. Praying she didn't make too much noise.

A dark figure steps in and closes the door behind them.  
Still with their back to her they pull the hood down to reveal dark, long hair.

Sara releases her breath when it's Nyssa that turns around to her.

Anger floods her only a second later.  
Stupid, brave anger.

She crosses her arms and slouches back against the wall.  
Like a stubborn teenager she stares at Nyssa.

And Nyssa stares back.

Whatever she finds in blue eyes makes her sigh, her blank expression softening a bit.

"You need to rest. How do you intend to heal if you don't give your body a break?" she questions as she steps to Sara's bedside once more.

"I would rest a lot better if I knew what the hell is going on." the blonde snaps.

"You did not apply the ointment either."

Sara doesn't even wonder anymore how she knows that without even checking.

"Should your infected wounds spread, you might find yourself in a fever soon." Nyssa reminds her. Her posture is relaxed and in control but something about her seems on the edge.

"At least drink and eat." she advices as she pulls a small burlap bag from her belt and places it next to Sara on the bed.

"You are going to need your strength." Nyssa informs her before turning around and leaving quicker than she came.

"Need my strength for what?" Sara calls after her but her question is only met with the sound of the door fall into place as an answer.

She buries her face in her palms.

This is a nightmare.

It's almost worse than the first few days on the Amazo.  
Now she has an idea of what might await her. Things her naive mind would never have been able to imagine no matter how many NC-17 rated movies she watched in the last few years.

Who knew such horrors could actually happen to her? No special effects, stunt doubles and make up involved.

She sighs in frustration.

But Nyssa is right; she is going to need her strength for whatever might come her way.  
And apparently they aren't going to starve her out.

Sara opens the bag. It contains a couple of energy and protein bars and a small plastic bottle of nutrition drink.

The colorful plastic wrapping looks so out of place.

Well, her bones are sticking out too much too. Not that she could ever have been considered chubby to begin with.

Sara drinks and eats before taking the jars.  
The label is handwritten.  
She opens it and carefully sniffs it. The arnica ointment has a yellow tint to it though the dim light might trick her eyes. The dexpanthenol ointment is just plain white. But the consistency doesn't look like anything she can get at the pharmacy. More like the all-natural-ingridient salves that hippies moms make themselves.

Before the island Sara never would've believed in some healing herbs or home made remedies.

She applies the ointments to a small patch of skin on the inside of her elbow, testing if it will burn or give her a rash. But the cool substance feels actually rather soothing.  
Not that she really expects Nyssa to poison her after the length she had gone to keep her alive. But she learned to be rather safe than sorry.

In the end Sara looks like she has a deadly disease with all those yellow and white spots covering her limps, torso and face. Though she had to leave out her back.  
Twisting around to reach the scrapes and bruises on her shoulders and bak lmakes her feel like her cracked rib is piercing right through her left lung.

The heavy bruising along her left side is fading to an ugly shade of green, yellow and purple.

But considering she almost died she's rather healthy if not a little under weight. She has had worse injuries than just one cracked rib when she crashed her bike at the age of ten.

If it wasn't for her ankle.  
It had swollen up in the last hour, the bandages that are meant to support it are now constricting her blood flow.  
Walking on it really hadn't been a smart idea. And that sprint back to the bed only made it worse.

Sara unwraps the bandage, takes the pillow, and places it under her injured foot before she lies down again hoping that the swelling will go down a bit.

And the waiting begins anew.

Sara thinks about all the possible scenarios that could be waiting for her.

They could keep her here forever.  
They could question and torture her.  
Or use her for experiments.  
Maybe they'll use her as leverage.

Suddenly Sara realizes that she never gave them her name.  
Knowing that they probably have no idea who she is, is a relief.  
It means her family is safe.

She is determined to keep it that way.

Maybe they won't even care who she is and just kill her once they realize that the Mirakuru is gone.

It has to be about the Mirakuru, right? What else could they want from her?

If only she knew for certain but Nyssa didn't let anything slip except that she had orders to gather information on something.

Nyssa, Heir to the devil, or whatever she calls herself.

Sara wishes she had any idea who these crazy people are.  
She wishes she had any idea how to fight them.  
She wishes she had the possibility to defend herself.

But she's all out of ideas and option.

Even if she was completely healthy, even if she kept going to the defense classes her dad made her go to as a kid she wouldn't be able to fight them.  
She has a feeling that playing the damsel in distress with her pleading blue eyes won't win any favors with these people like it did with Anthony either.

He might have been ruthless and violent but at least he showed some kind of emotion she could use to her gain. Nyssa seems pretty much unfazed whatever Sara does and she doubts the others will be different.

But just sitting and waiting doesn't agree with her.

The blonde wonders if she can use anything in her room as a weapon. On the Amazon, she at least had her knife even though it was more for show than anything else.  
She'd love to show these people that she won't go down without a fight, no matter how short the fight may be.

Maybe she could use the torch... or what if she broke the glass bottle…  
But how would she do that without alerting someone?  
And what good would it do her if she can't even walk, let alone fight- with or without a weapon.

Sara pinches the root of her nose.

Her head is spinning from all these what ifs.  
Or maybe it's still from the concussion.

It would be useless anyway.  
There are probably a lot more of them than there are of her.  
Even if she wasn't recovering from almost drowning and starving she would never be able to over power any of them in a fight.  
And she doesn't even know where she is, let alone how to get out of these caves.

A broken piece of glass isn't going to change anything.


	10. The Demon's Head

**A/N: I'm so excited to share this chapter with you! As you probably already guessed from the chapter title shit's about to go down. Or well, begin.**

 **Trigger warning for mention of torture.**

* * *

It's been maybe an hour since Nyssa dropped in when the door opens again.

If she hadn't been staring at it, Sara wouldn't have notice it.

The blonde forces the surprise and fear out of her face when three hooded figures enter her room.

Two of them, standing left and right next to the door, are holding lanterns while the third one talks to her.

She can't understand what he's saying but his intentions are clear when he grabs her upper arms and pulls her to her feet.

The blonde stops herself from crying out when pain shoots through her ankle all the way up her leg. The bandage is still lying at the foot of the bed.

Though she can't see their faces she knows that none of them are Nyssa. They are taller and their shoulder are broader.

She thinks the one on the left with the lantern is the black man who was with Nyssa when they found her.

The man pulling her forward by the arm bellows something in the foreign language at her. Without ever having heard the words before Sara knows it means "Come along!" or "Follow me!"

She complies, holding her head high as she forces herself to walk without limping.

The two with the lanterns lead the way and the third man lets go of her and walks behind her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks but doesn't get an answer just as she expected.

There is nothing to restrain her, to keep her from running or attacking them and somehow that's even more humiliating than if they had put her in handcuffs.

They don't even consider her a threat.

The worst part is that they are right.

The corridors with naked stone walls, except for occasional doors and torches, seem endless. After a few turns Sara looses orientation.

The sheer size of the tunnel system makes her heart race.

She'll never find a way out of here.

Apparently they move towards the center.

There are more doors here and the corridor becomes wider as oil lamps and lanterns replace the torches. Some doors have heavy locks and are guarded by equally heavy armed men.

Otherwise than that the hallways are empty.

Or at least they appear to be.

Sara thinks she catches a glimpses of people moving in the shadows of the corridors they pass.

Finally the corridor ends leading up to a door alined with sharp metal sticks and six guards positioned in front of it. Two have swords strapped to their hips. Two have long sticks in their hands that Sara has seen before but can't remember the name of. The last two guards are carrying bows.

What is it with bows and arrows these days?

The door swings open and interrupts her train of thoughts.

Sara can't keep her eyes from bulging.

There are more people all clad in black than she can count as she is lead through the spacious cave.

Her attention is drawn to the only three people whose face aren't hidden underneath a hood and scarf standing right in the center in front of what looks like an indoor well.

One of them is Nyssa.

She's standing behind a middle aged man, opposite to another man.

The man in the middle is the only one not carrying a weapon and his clothes are different from what appears to be the standard outfit of black leather.

Sara comes to a halt a few feet in front of them.

Though their faces are concealed underneath their hoods and scarves, she feels the crowd's eyes on her back.

"Kneel before the Demon's head." the voice of the man on the left echoes through the hall.

One of the guards that escorted her pushes her to her knees.

By the way it hurts she's pretty sure the scrapes on her knees reopen as she hits the rough stone floor but Sara is relieved to get the weight off her ankle.

She glances around the room to find everyone bowing. They only look up again when their leader speaks up.

"I have returned home to find that we have a guest. What is your name?" he sounds… calm, almost intrigued as he looks down at the woman kneeling at his feet. Like she's his entertainment for the day.

It makes the hair in her neck stand up.

Don't give them your name! They can't know who you are!

"Allison." Sara responds with the first name that came to her mind, her heart racing in her chest.

"Allison," he repeats slowly, "And what has brought you to Lian Yu. Allison?"

"I-" Sara tries to remember what she knew about the only other woman aboard the Amazo. She has a feeling that she needs to get her facts as straight as possible.

"I was on a boat trip with my boyfriend and the boat broke down and then these people found us and they-"

Sara stops.

Their stories are so similar. Except Allison and her boyfriend were imprisoned, separated, experimented on, humiliated and tortured.

"Go on." the Demon's Head encourages her.

"They kept me in a cage and then the ship exploded and I woke up on the beach. I don't know what happened to Steven." the blonde chokes out and looks down at the ground.

She remembers all too well how the woman had cried out her boyfriend's name when he was dragged from his cage or brought back to it in a worse condition than before, each time sounding more and more desperate and broken. Until he didn't return at all.

Sara doesn't have to fake crying with these memories in mind. It could've been her on the wrong side of Anthony's attention.

But instead she had been one of the people to do it to them.

A hand lifts her chin and forces her to look up.

The Demon's Head is suddenly crouching down on one knee right in front of her. To an outsider their position might almost look like he's trying to comfort her.

"Do you peg me a fool, child?"

It's a trick question, Sara knows that, but it sounds too sincere to be rhetorical, so she shakes her head anyway as much as possible with someone holding her chin.

Sara doesn't even dare to blink, tears slipping from the corner of her eyes, as the man studies her.

Her throat feels to tight, no matter much she tries to swallow that feeling down.

Finally he lets go of her chin but doesn't move away.

"The league does not take prisoners. And yet here you are, alive. I advise you to tell the truth if you want a chance to keep it that way," he leans in and whispers into her ear, "Sara Lance."

* * *

 **A/N: Muhahaha, I finally get why writers love their cliffhangers.**

 **So, Sara finally met Ra's al Ghul. And he knows who she is. Dun dun duuun. Did Nyssa do some research and tell Ra's or does Ra's remember her from the 50ies, who knows? (I know ;)**

 **Pls don't hate me too much for the cliffhanger *bribing with cookies and running for cover***

 **New chapter will be out next Sunday, maaaybe Saturday if you're really nice too me ;))**


	11. Power Display

**A/N: Whohooo, longest chapter yet! I hope you like it:)**

 **EDIT: I'm so sorry I forgot the trigger warning for manhandling, violence and injuries.**

* * *

"The league does not take prisoners. And yet here you are, alive. I advise you to tell the truth if you want a chance to keep it that way," the Demon's Head leans in and whispers into her ear, "Sara Lance."

This isn't possible!

He can't know who she is!

Sara feels like she's drowning again, the panic making it impossible to breath as she watches the man who just crumbled her world stand up again.

"How- how do you-" she tries to form a full sentence while scrambling to her feet but a steady hand on her shoulder keeps her on the ground as the demon's head steps away.

"Now, I ask you again; How did you end up on Lian Yu?" he repeats his question with his back still towards her.  
Sara can't stop the tears from streaming down her face.

"Answer me, child!"

She flinches at his booming voice.  
It's the first time he raised his voice.

She tried. She really did. She tried to keep her family safe.

I'm sorry. She thinks as if it matters even if she could say it her family.

"I was shipwrecked with my boyfriend," she forces the words out of her mouth.

What if they know that it's Oliver?  
What if they hurt her family if she tells them about everything?  
What if they hurt them if she doesn't?

"But after the boat went down, I was the only one rescued by a man called Anthony Ivo. He was searching for this drug, a biological enhancer. It was supposed to heal anything, safe the human race," Sara chokes out a bitter snort when she repeats Anthony's words. The Mirakuru can do everything but save someone. It's their doom.

"Tell me about this drug."

No!  
Everything in her is screaming that these people should know nothing about the Mirakuru.

The Demon's Head turns around to look at her and that's all that it takes to silence the warning bells inside her head.

"The Japanese developed it during World War II but the submarine transporting it ran aground. It was said to enhance a persons strength, regeneration, pain tolerance and even their perception," Sara recites emotionless what she heard and read so many times during her time on the Amazo.

"Ivo was - he was experimenting on people. Doing whatever it takes to find the Mirakuru and replicate it. And I- I helped him." the blonde looks up at the ceiling, directly into one of the lanterns. Maybe the light can blind any mental image she has of what she has done for a whole year in Anthony's name.  
But of course nothing can ever erase that. Not even from her own mind.

"He took pity on me for whatever reason and I was just happy not to be one of his lab rats," Sara defends her choices though the only one who looks bothered by it is herself, "He searched island after island to find the submarine. Eventually it led us to Lian Yu."

"And how did you end up stranded on the beach with everyone else dead?"

Everyone else is dead. Everyone.

Sara already knows that from Nyssa but hearing it confirmed by someone else feels as much as a knife to her chest as it did the first time.

"There were people living on Lian Yu. They were stranded there. I helped them take down Anthony." she answers and it's the first time she looks at the man in front of her with pride and determination.  
She wants him to know that maybe she's a naive and weak girl but damn those that underestimate her.

"We wanted to use the feighter to get off the island but one of them had been injected with the drug after we found it and it made him… mad."  
It's an understatement but Sara can't think of a simpler way to describe it.  
"He turned on us and in the fight the freighter got destroyed."

She fails to mention that one of the men on the island was the same one she had been on a boat trip with and what he had gone through on the island while she had been on the Amazo.  
For all they know Oliver Queen died on the Gambit.

"And the drug?"

"I pray that whatever was left of it was destroyed when the freighter went down." She can't keep the snarling out of her voice.  
At least all the records Anthony had collected went down with the ship too. And if they think that she'll help them recover any of the information they bet on the wrong horse.

No one should every be able to use the Mirakuru again.

Sara doesn't say it but the way she clenches her jaw and stares up at the man in front of her she doesn't have to.

It's quiet for a moment.

The man seems to consider what to do with her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she can see Nyssa and the other man but neither look at her. It's more like they're looking through her.

Their leader says something in that foreign language without taking his eyes of her and Nyssa responds. The man on the Demon's other side adds something.

Sara knows they are talking about her, talking about her fate, as if she isn't even there.  
And she has no idea what the verdict might be.

"It'd be great if you could plan my execution in a language I understand."

She has no idea what just came over her.  
It's pretty much suicidal to get sassy.  
But if they want her dead there's nothing she can do about. So she might as well stop being afraid.

Someone grabs her hair and yanks her head back as a sword is held to her throat.  
It presses down on her windpipe and nicks at her skin.

"You dare to interrupt Ra's al Ghul?" the man behind her hisses into her ear, pulling at her hair.  
She suppresses a whimper.

The Demon's Head, Ra's al Ghul or whatever his name is, raises his hand and whoever grabbed her lets go.

Sara falls forward to her hands and knees, spluttering and gasping for air.

Ra's al Ghul.  
Al Ghul...

Still on her knees, gasping and choking, she glances up at Nyssa.

Nyssa al Ghul, Heir to the Demon.

She remembers the full name now and it rips away whatever little hope she didn't even realize she had in the woman becoming an ally.

"I think you might be at a disadvantage here, child. While I know who you are, it appears that you have no idea who we are." Ra's al Ghul says as Sara scrambles to her feet.

"We are the League of Assasin." he raises his hands, his cloak slipping down to the ground and the torches on the wall flame up with perfect timing.

"My men..." he gestures to the people around him and as if on cue all hell breaks loose around them.

"...are made up of the fastest..." everyone seems to be fighting everyone. It's a blur of black leather, arrows and blades around them. But nothing ever touches her or the man in front of her as if they are in the eye of a storm.

"...strongest..." the shortest of them, perhaps the teenage boy, jumps onto the shoulder of another, bringing him down with an acrobatic rolls. Another fighter shakes of four attackers at once.

"...and most skilled fighters in the world." A group has formed around Nyssa. Within seconds she has brought several people down and disarmed even more, fighting them with their own weapons.

Ra's al Ghul's hand shoots up and Sara flinches. It takes her a second to register the arrow he caught inches away from her face before he drops it to the ground.

"We make the Mirakuru look like a child's play." the Demon's Head smiles at her.

The noise of fighting is drowned out by the rushing of her own blood.

Sara never mentioned the name of the drug.

Like she never mentioned her own name.

"We step in when others fail to do what is necessary to keep the world at peace."

Out of nowhere Sara bursts out with laughter.

It's just too much. Like an overload in her brain.  
She has gone insane, it's the only explanation.

Everything reminds her of a terrible action movies that tries to make up for weak characters and little plot by including grand speeches and every single stunt they can think of to impress their audience.  
This is a stupid power play.  
Here stands 'The Demon's Head' with an army of skilled fighters trying so hard to impress a little girl as if it matter what she thinks of them. As if she'd live to tell the tale how he talks about peace while who Sara guesses is his daughter holds a dagger to someones throat.

"Peace." Sara repeats and laughs harder, barley making a sound anymore.  
If she felt like being in the eye of the storm before, she now feels like a natural disaster herself - something you should run from but can't help yourself but stare at frozen in spot - as everyone's attention shifts to her and the fighting slowly dies down.

Sara can't breathe, her cracked rib piercing her side, when confused and uncertain eyes beneath black hoods shift back and forth between her and their leader.

She wipes away the tears as her laughter slowly dies down.  
An action movie with a character confusing the bad guys into the defeat by laughing into their face would be gold.

Ra's al Ghul raises his hand and everyone's attention shifts to him.

"Leave us." he demands and for the first time his calmness seems forced.  
His men start to collect their weapons and help up those who were injured during the fight.

"NOW!" Ra's al Ghul bellows so loudly it's ringing in Sara's ears, the pulsing vain on his forehead betraying his otherwise stoic expression.

Immediately Sara feels completely sober as she watches highly trained fighters hurry past her and out the room - with or without their weapons - as if they don't even see her. As if they are afraid.

Up close the blonde notices blood seeping through the black clothes of some of them.  
Some are limping.  
One of them is clutching a gaping wound on his abdomen as Nyssa gives him back his sword that looks like it has been dunked in blood.

Nyssa catches her eyes for a split second and there is something like curiosity in her eyes. But also pity.

This isn't a bad action movie with stunt doubles and fake blood.

This is very real.

* * *

 **A/N: Uh, Sara left alone with Ra's al Ghul? That can't be good.**

 **But at least we know what Nyssa meant when she talked about Sara laughing at Ra's al Ghul. What's your headcanon of that story?**  
 **As always, new chapter next Sunday :** )


	12. Offers

Sara stares after Nyssa as she leaves as the last one and closes the door behind her.  
Leaving Sara all alone with the Demon's Head.

She turns around to a mess of arrows, daggers, swords, bow staffs and ripped pieces of clothing.

And blood.

And bodies.

"This… this isn't peace." Sara whispers in the suddenly quiet hall.

She just can't look away from the life less bodies, only noticing Ra's al Ghul's movement from the corner of an eye as he puts his cloak back on and wanders around the room.  
One of the fallen men lost their hood and his eyes are staring right at her as the blood stain around him grows.

Sara wants to back away, wants to run but there is blood everywhere on the ground around her.

"You have much to learn, child." the Demon's Head tells her, kneeling on the edge of the well as he fishes a couple of arrows out of the water.  
"Peace isn't the absence of violence. It's the absence of oppression and imbalanced power. Or do you not have boxing matches in times of peace?"

That's one fucked up way to define peace but Sara can't think of a good argument to dismiss his logic, her mind still trying to process what just happened.

Ra's al Ghul walks from the well to a little niche on the wall beside it. There's a little table with several jugs, mugs and grails as well as some small boxes. All gold and very ancient looking.

"The League of Assassins has existed one way or another as long as laws have existed." he explains as he opens one of the boxes and pulls out something small that Sara can't define from across the room.  
He walks back to the well, moving around he room as if bodies scattered on the floor are part of he interior.  
"Because where there are laws protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty, there are loopholes making the guilty untouchable." he explains as he dips the thing in the water and carries it back to the table.

"So you're just putting yourself above the law and killing them." Sara states flatly, keeping her eyes fixed on him. But his back blocks her view of what he is doing.  
Finally he turns around to her, a mug in his hand that could pass as the Holy Grail from a King Arthur movie as he makes his way towards her.

Sara forces herself not to flinch at the splashing noise when he steps into puddles of blood. Blood of his own men.

"Imagine all bad people were gone at once. Imagine if you had the power to do so," he holds out the cup and Sara takes it without any conscious decision as he continues, "All murderer, rapists, child abuser, drug dealers, politics who let their people starve so they can be rich… would you not wish their death?"

The way he stares at her makes her want to squirm.  
He looks so knowing as if he had heard every single violent and bad thought she never dared to say out loud.

 _Stab Anthony in his sleep._  
 _Castrate pedophiles and let them bleed out._  
 _Burn people who mistreat animals alive._  
 _Hurt abusers the way they hurt their victims, make them feel what they felt._

"Wishing someone was dead and actually killing them are two very different things," Sara defends her thoughts, "We've got prisons for people like that."

"And did prisons help against Anthony Ivo?"

Sara opens her mouth but nothing comes out.  
She has wondered why no authorities ever tried to stop Anthony. There were countless nights she spent wishing that when someone finally arrests him it'll be a country that has a death penalty. Only to realize that no one was coming.

"If you had the power to stop him, would you not have done it?" Ra's al Ghul inquires but he sounds like he already knows the answer.

"But I wouldn't have killed him!" she cries, answering a little too quickly.

Would she?

Knowing what she knows now, would she really not have killed him the first moment she met him if she could have?  
It would've speared Shado, Slade would've never been injected and Ollie would still be alive. Not to mention the countless prisoners like Allison and her boyfriend and Peter and Anatoly and Thomas and even Hendrick.  
Sara always told herself that she just didn't stand a chance against Anthony and the crew on her own. But even when he was all alone, injured and begging her for death, she didn't have the guts to pull the trigger.

Not even _after_ all the horrible things had happened had she been able to make sure Anthony can never hurt anyone ever again.

"Drink." Ra's interrupts her thoughts and Sara takes a look at the liquid in the grail for the first time.  
It looks like plain water.

"The waters from the Lazarus Pit have healing abilities." he answers her unasked question.

If that was all there is to it then surely the Demon's Head wouldn't go through the trouble to give it to her himself.  
But at the mention of her injuries she notices the pain her body is in again for the first time since entering this room. She shifts her weight off her injured foot.

Ra's Al Ghul notices her hesitation.

"It is an honer to drink from the holy waters. And a one time offer to heal your wounds."

It's sounds like a threat in Sara's ears.

 _I will make you go through what I have in store for you with or without you being injured._

Despite the hair in her neck standing up at the idea doing what this man tells her to, Sara drowns the water in few big gulps.  
It tastes like plain water too.

She's aware that Ra's al Ghul studies her while she drinks.  
He looks satisfied when she hands him back the grail without a word.

He doesn't say anything for a while.  
The silence stretches uncomfortably long as they just watch the other watching them.

Finally Ra's Al Ghul smiles and Sara feels like she has won and lost the stare off at the same time.

She wants to throw up his stupid holy water at his feet.

"It appears you are faced with a decision, Sara Lance. Die as the helpless child you are or rise to become a warrior like us."

Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware that this is the choice it would come down to; kill or get killed.  
But how can she help another mad man to hurt people?

Fuck, she wants to live - but she doesn't want to live like this!

"I-I can't…"

The Demon's Head ignores her protest as he walks to the door and opens it. Within a few seconds after speaking in the foreign language the room is swarmed with dark clad people again.

Does anyone around here wear anything other than black?!

Ra's turns to her as his men clean up the room around them.

"You will have one night to make your choice."

With those words one of his men pulls her away. As she is dragged away Sara looks over her should at the Demon's Head standing in the middle of his working followers.

People who can catch arrows in the middle of the air.  
People who can fend off someone twice their size.  
People who seem unfazed and in control in the face of danger.  
People who could've easily stopped Anthony and Slade.

People who obey to Ra's Al Ghul's every word without questions even if it means their death.

* * *

 **A/N: Soo, what do you think? I mean, obviously we all know that Sara is going to end up in the League at some point but do you think she's gong to give in right away or is she going to struggle with her conscience and try to fight this?**  
 **Btw if you feel like discussing headcanons or ranting about how many opportunities the writers are missing I'm always up for talking via DM or tumblr (truelittleblackstar)  
**


	13. Side Effects

**A/N: Trigger Warning for self-harm and blood!**

* * *

Sara is pulled along the dark hallways but she barley takes notice of her surroundings.  
Her mind is stuck on the scene she left behind.

On bodies lying in their own blood.

How the blood drips from their wounds.

The puddles of blood steadily growing.

The person who guides her through the ever lasting hallways pushes her inside a room. He tells her something in that foreign language and closes the door in her face without waiting for a response.

Sara stands motionless, the sound of his voice echoing in her mind without registering it.

The entire floor had been covered by blood.

The soles of her feet are burning and Sara retches as she realizes that she walked through the blood on the way out.  
Sara lunges to the curtain, barley reaching the latrine in time to puke her guts out.  
Despite the cramps in her stomach and the vile taste in her mouth she can't focus on anything but Ra's al Ghuls indifferent demeanor.

How he casually moved around the bodies.  
How he walked through the blood without hesitation.

They were his men! His loyal followers! People that killed each other because he ordered them to!

A second wave of nausea hits her, bile etching her throat and mouth.

Anthony might have been cruel and sick but he never spilled any blood unless it was necessary.

 _Nothing he did was necessary or justified._  
But she ignores that thought.

Sara slowly sits up when the vomiting finally stops.

And Ra's did it for what? Because of her?  
 _For_ her?

In the twilight she sees blood dripping from her shaking hands. She can almost feel it running along her skin.  
She reaches for the water bowl and soap beside her, almost dropping the soap bar twice.

Never in her life has she wash her hands so thoroughly.  
But you can't wash away what isn't physically there.  
She can't wash away the guilt she feels.

So instead Sara dips the small towel in the water and scrubs at her feet.

She scrubs away the dark, dried blood on her soles and a bit of dirt from walking barefoot.  
She scrubs until her skin is raw and it's her own blood that stains the cloth.  
And then she scrubs some more, trying to washing away the persistent blood flow, until all she can feel is the pain and burning in her feet and the strain in her right arm from pressing down so hard.

Something like satisfaction runs through her as she finally eases her feet into the bowl.

The cold water stings and Sara can feel tears running down her cheeks as she waits for the worst of the bleeding to stop.  
But it's not from the pain. Or at least not mainly.  
It's from relief.

She cranks and stretches her neck to work out the kinks in her shoulders. Her whole body is tired and sore but relaxed as if she just had been through an intense work out.

After a couple of minutes she pulls out her feet and dumps the water down the latrine, throwing the blood stained cloth down the hole too without caring if it clogs the sewer system.  
She just needs everything gone.

Maybe it's for the better that in the dark she can't see just how red the water has turned.

With wet feet Sara pats back to the bed. It hurts to walk on the raw skin and she should probably worry about dirt getting into the wound but right now she doesn't care.

In her dazed state of mind she hadn't noticed before that the small bed is once again made up and a tray with food as well as a pile of clothing sitting on top of it.

Sara sits at the end of the bed and reaches for the water bottle to finally flush away the taste of vomit.

 _There's something wrong with me._ Sara can't help but think as she wolfs down the protein bars and the apple from the tray.  
Her stomach should be upset at the thought of food after what she just witnessed but instead she is famished. Like she just got over a stomach bug and is finally able to eat actual food after several days of just water and simple crackers.

She's so focused on eating that for once she doesn't pay attention to what's happening outside of her room.

The door opens and Sara jumps up in surprise, her whole body tense in alert.

It's only when she sees the intruder catching the half eaten apple that she realizes she threw it.

Nyssa looks at the fruit, then at Sara. There's a weird twitch of the muscles along her jaw.

Sara isn't sure if she's more surprised of her own action or confused by Nyssa's reaction to being 'attacked' with a fruit.

"Your ankle," Nyssa throws the apple back at her, "it's healed."

Catching it Sara realizes that she's standing with both feet firmly planted on the ground.  
Her eyes widen.

The sole of her feet sting and burn but her ankle doesn't hurt anymore. In fact, except for the recent wound, she can't feel any kind of pain.

Sara drops the apple back on the tray, lifts her left foot on the bed and pulls up the hem of her pants, having to see it for herself.  
The swelling is gone and the skin has an almost normal color.  
Rolling up her pant leg further Sara discovers that _all_ of her bruises are almost gone and the scrapes and cuts have faded into light pink marks.

Nyssa's eyes are fixed on her but she pays her no mind as she drops her foot back to the ground and pulls the left side of her shirt up, almost exposing her breasts in her rush.

Gone, gone, gone.

Sara inhales deeply, watching her chest rise and fall.

All her injuries are either completely or almost gone.  
Her sprained ankle, her cracked rib, the bruises and flesh wounds, everything!  
Even her sunburn is completely gone, leaving her skin light and smooth again.

"How…" Sara is a loss for words as she lowers her shirt.  
She looks at Nyssa for an explanation.

The other woman eyes her suspiciously, her whole body tense.

"How is this possible?" Sara asks again but Nyssa just keeps staring at her as the straining muscles of her jaw and throat twitch.

What the hell is happening?

She can't tell what exactly is going on beneath that hollow mask but Nyssa almost looks at her as if she's something unnatural or alien.

"The waters of the Lazarus Pit have powerful healing abilities," Nyssa answers eventually but it sounds forced, like a rehearsed line.

So that's what that water was that Ra's al Ghul gave her.

Still, it just doesn't make sense.  
Water can't just magically heal all kinds of injuries.

Her mind is racing through all the things she learned about chemistry and biology ion the Amazo but she just can't come up with any idea how any of this is possible.  
Even the Mirakuru wouldn't be capable of this -especially not without nasty side effects.

Sara's stomach drops at the thought suffering from similar side effects like Slade did with the Mirakuru.

"What is so special about you?" Nyssa disrupts her thoughts. She grinds her teeth again as if she didn't mean to ask that out loud.

"Special?" Sara repeats baffled.

There isn't anything special about her.  
Sometimes she does special kinds of stupid things and attracts especially bad luck - like going on a boat trip with her sister's boyfriend and then getting ship wrecked.  
But otherwise than that she has been pretty much average her whole life.

"Ra's al Ghul takes no prisoners," Nyssa's voice is low and dangerous, each word carefully chosen and pronounced. "  
Ra's al Ghul rarely grants anyone the honor of the Lazarus Pit, nevertheless an outsider."

Sara's hands curl to fists, her whole body tense as Nyssa steps closer, clearly meaning to intimidate her.

Fuck, she looks way to much like the Demon's Head himself with those piercing eyes.

"Ra's al Ghul does not grant second chances," Nyssa looks at her as if she expects Sara to break out into a confession or something. But Sara doesn't bulge.

"And still you're alive."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so curious to hear what you think about this chapter and if you're picking up on some hints and clues I scattered throughout the chapter - or if I made them to obvius. Let me know what you think. (Should I be worried that I enjoyed writing such an intense chapter?)**

 **I'm sorry I left you with a cliffhanger again, I just like to keep the chapter lenght relatively constant. And I'm hitting a little bit of a writers block, so I'm saving what I've already written to be able to keep updating regularly for as long as possible.  
On that note; see you next Sunday :)**


	14. Differences

"Ra's al Ghul does not grant second chances," Nyssa looks at her as if she expects Sara to break out into a confession or something. But Sara doesn't bulge.  
"And still you're alive."

What the hell does Nyssa want from her?!  
How is she supposed to know why any of this is happening?

"Why don't you tell me?" Sara hisses, lifting her chin as she closes the last bit of distance between her and Nyssa, " _You_ came looking _for me_!"

"I was following orders." Nyssa doesn't back away but it sounds almost defensive.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

 _Don't be stupid. Stay low. Don't provoke her. You saw what she is capable of._

But Sara doesn't listen to her own advice as adrenalin pumps through her body. If Nyssa thought intimidating her would have her running scared, she got the exact opposite reaction somehow even though Sara usually avoids head-on conflicts she can't win.

"And you didn't even ask why?" Sara inquires spitefully, "I mean clearly Ra's al Ghul knew about the Mirakuru, so what the hell do you need me for?!"

Nyssa blinks and maybe Sara is putting too much into this but it feels like she just hit a sore spot.

"If Ra's al Ghul decides that Anthony Ivo's expedition is the League's concern all the sudden, then you do well to not question his orders." Nyssa almost grimaces as if she had to learn that lesson first hand.

But Sara can't think about the pain the Demon's Head may or may not inflict on his own heir right now.

"You knew about Anthony's experiments."  
Sara feels like she's been punched in the guts.

They knew and they didn't do anything.

"We have been keeping an eye on his ridiculous quest for years." Nyssa is motionless, almost bored. As if the pain Anthony inflicted meant nothing.

Sara wants to strangle her for that, her fits twitching to reach out.  
Instead she digs her nails deeper into the palms of her hands until she's almost breaking skin.

"How… how could you just let him?" Sara breathes slowly, forcing herself not to scream or cry, "Do you have any idea what he did- what he was willing to do? How many people he hurt and killed?"  
Her voice cracks during the last sentence.

Anthony might have been behind all this but it wasn't solely through his hands that people have been hurt.  
Nyssa and the League stood idly by just watching despite having the means to stop him.

But what she did was worse.  
She helped him.

"Murderer, smuggler and trafficker... They deserved it."  
It's stated with such nonchalance that Sara is cell shocked for a moment.

How can Nyssa say that without even a hint of guilt or second thought?  
How can she just decide which life is worth what?  
How dare the League of _Assassins_ justify them play God when they are the worst of all?

"Shipwrecked couples, lost tourists, priests- people with a family! No one deserves that." Sara exclaims and clenches her fist again when Nyssa still doesn't show any appropriate reaction.

There is no use denying that most of Anthony's lab rats belonged in prison themselves - an actual prison with a sentence decided by a court - but that doesn't mean they deserved being held in cages and getting tortured.

Nyssa gives her this curious yet somehow pitying look again, like when she left Sara alone with Ra's al Ghul, as if she can't understand how Sara can't agree with her that these people deserved what Anthony did to them.

Sara feels like she might actually give into physically attacking the other woman if they'll keep discussing whether or not people deserve to live in a basic amount of dignity no matter what they did.

She takes a deep breath and slowly pries her finger nails out of her flesh.  
She did break skin at some point without noticing.

"Look, I have no idea why this is all happening or why Ra's al Ghul apparently treats me differently. I had a regular life, you know."

Nyssa doesn't show any sign of believing her – not that she shows any sign of anything. Sara if she's just sick of the lack of reaction or getting freaked out by her constant stoic expression.

"No mad scientist or miracle drugs or people who are trying to kill me," Sara adds though she doubts it'll change anything, "I was just another girl who couldn't decide on a college major, stayed out too late and fell for the wrong guy. Completely normal," Sara stretches the last word.

Nyssa doesn't answer immediately. The silence stretches on for just a second too long and it's that one second that rips away whatever little feeling of control Sara had before.

"Maybe the girl you were was ordinary but what about the woman you are going to become?" Nyssa wonders with just a hint of a knowing smile.

The way she formed that sentence combined with her soft tone and smile sends shivers down Sara's spine and makes the hair on her body stand up.  
It takes her a moment to fully grasp what exactly Nyssa is implying, too focused on how much Nyssa resembles Ra's al Ghul right now despite looking so different physically.

"I'm not gonna be- I just want to go home!" Sara tries to state firmly but she's staggering and stumbling a step back as she's hit with pictures of her future-self being anything like them.  
She looks at Nyssa with wide eyes, frantically searching for any doubt in dark eyes that she could ever be what Ra's al Ghul wants her to be.

"Even if I could grant your that wish you know that it is not going to be the same." Nyssa replies, not granting the other woman any sympathy or reassurance. She's just studying her once more with that weird mix of curiosity and pity.

Sara shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn't want to think about that. She decides that she doesn't have to.

"There is something about you, and you can't even see it," Nyssa sounds genuinely fascinated and Sara hates that the possible potential as an assassin is the thing that breaks through her hollow mask and emotionless demeanor.

"Aren't you curious as to what makes you so different?"

"No." Sara hasn't been more sure of anything in her life before. If it's something the Demon's Head and his daughter see in her then she doesn't want it to ever reach the surface.

Once again the two women stare at each other, only now it seems to be Nyssa trying to figure out what's going on and ponder what to do instead of Sara.

"Very well," Nyssa finally responds, "I don't want to keep you any further, you have an important decision to make."

And just like that Sara wishes Nyssa didn't just drop it. She wants to keep arguing about dignity, ask her why the hell no one around here seems to wear anything other than black leather, she wants to give into the urge of clawing at the other woman's skin – anything that would make her stay longer and not leave Sara all to herself.  
But Sara just watches frozen in spot as Nyssa collects the food tray and then picks up the ointment jars on the ground next to the bed.

"No, please leave the ointment."  
Sara bites the inside of her cheeks. She didn't mean for it to come out so needy and panicked. She shouldn't have said anything at all, shouldn't have shown weakness. Infected wounds on her feet are going to be the least of her worries.  
But they would make everything unnecessarily more difficult.

Nyssa is taken aback by her request. Previous actions of Sara might have left her wondering or curious but they never seemed to completely take her by surprise.

"Why?"

"I… need it." Sara tries to sound casual but it comes out lame and awkward. She just can't think of any logical reason on the spot except for the truth.

"But the Lazarus Pit healed your wounds."

Squirming away from piercing, dark eyes, Sara hums nonchalantly. She doesn't want Nyssa to know she hurt herself.

 _What the hell was I thinking? Why did I do that?_ Sara questions herself as she remembers the feeling of scrubbing through her own skin, only now recognizing the act of self-harm as such.

But apparently Nyssa figures it out on her own. Or she just doesn't care. Sara can't decide what would be worse. Either way she returns the ointments to their original spot without further questions before heading to the door.

"It is a pity," Nyssa turns around to her one last time with her hand already on the door handle, "You survived against all odds and it'll be in vain. You choose somebody else's life over your own."

"That's not much of a choice!"

Sara's distraught outcry is lost in the sound of the door falling back into place.

* * *

 **A/N: Phew, I have a feeling that Sara and Nyssa are going to be clashing a lot. Sara has just grown up with a completely different world view. We know the Lances, they become cops and lawyers and vigilantes because they want to help and protect people. We know how much Sara hates herself for the things she did years ago.**

 **Which is why I'm struggeling a little with understanding her train of thoughts that do lead her to joining the league.**

 **What to you think is the thing that drove Sara to go angainst everything she was raised to believe in?**


	15. The Right Choice

**A/N I cannot believe I forgot to post even though I posted this chapter last week on AO3. I'm so sorry. Well, now you get two chapters today, I hope that makes up for it at least a little bit.**

* * *

After Nyssa left, Sara turns back to the bed and grabs the change of clothes before she can think about what Ra's al Ghul's daughter said to her.  
With slow, shaking hands she changes into the provided outfit, putting it on top of her current clothes before taking them off underneath the new clothes inconveniently.

Brushing off any visible dirt from the soles of her feet - which isn't as much as she expected from the stone floor – she spreads the ointment rather thickly and puts on the soft leather shoes to keep new dirt out of the wound and the ointment from rubbing off on the bedsheets during the night.

But it's only so long that these task can keep her hands and mind busy.

It'll be in vain. Nyssa's words replay over and over again in her head as she wanders aimlessly around the room searching for something to do.  
She should give her feet time to heal but she needs to do something. She needs to find something to occupy her mind with and not think about how all the things she went through will be in wain.

Without her Anthony might never have found the graveside, Slade might never have been injected, Ollie and the others might still be alive.

But they are all dead while she lives.  
And she chooses to throw that away.

If she turns out to be strong enough to not be selfish for once in her life.

Realizing that it's no use, that there isn't anything that could keep her thoughts at bay, Sara flops down on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling. Her head is dizzy from the chaos whirling inside her head.

Sara can't believe that a tiny part of her is even considering any other option than denying Ra's al Ghul's offer. She can't even imagine the explicit details of what they want from her but the sick feeling in her stomach and tightness in her chest is enough of an answer.

Her death is probably the best option here. Not just for her.

But she can shut up that nagging feeling of yearning for life. Any kind of life.

She didn't even get to live.

She just made it through puberty and high school and her first heart break.  
She got her first taste of freedom after moving out, started figuring out who she is without her family constantly breathing down her neck. No teachers comparing her to Laurel at her college or guys being scared off by her dad or decision that her mother made for her.  
She was becoming her own person.

And it's all over before it even really began.

She'll be too dead figure out who she is or wants to be.  
Or on the League's puppet doing got knows what.

Sara knows what the right choice is. She grew up with her dad's moral compass and her mom's values after all.  
And she hates herself for not being able to make that choice without a second thought. If you can call it a 'choice' at all.

But there's a familiar voice screaming so loudly inside her head it might burst.  
It's the same stupid, selfish survival instinct she's gotten to know all to well on the Amazo and the island. Except this will be worse than what she had to do for Anthony or against Slade.

Kill.

Or be killed.

She would have to kill for them. There's no doubt about that. It's called the League of Assassins after all.

What if Ra's al Ghul makes her kill people she knows?

Sara presses her hand against her mouth, torn between sobbing, puking or screaming at the mere idea. But then she grinds her teeth and forces herself to breath the sick feeling away.

Maybe she can't choose death right now but if it comes down to choosing between her life or the life of someone she knows and loves, she would rather kill herself.  
The thought settles like a calming weight in her chest.  
Sara's so certain that she could never hurt someone she loves, no matter what Ra's al Ghul threatens to do to her. She'd gladly let him kill her for defying his orders if it keeps her family safe.

I can always defy his orders later. Sara suddenly realizes.

The moment Ra's wants her to do something she doesn't want to she can always change her mind. What is he going to do to her with that he isn't already threatening to do now?

Faced with the possibility to procrastinate on having to die is like a silver lining, like she's able to breath for the first time.

She can use the time to figure out what to do. She can learn how to fight. She can find out how they work. She can find a way to get out of here.

And even if she fails, at least she tried.

Doesn't she owe at least that much to Ollie? To Shado, Slade, Anatolio, Peter, Thomas, Allison and all the others she's caused so much pain. And even to Anthony.

She can do this for them. For now she just needs to survive and blend in.  
She'll figure out anything else later.

Like that has worked before. An annoyed voice that sounds a little like Laurel huffs at her.

Laurel.  
Her parents.

Ra's al Ghul knows who she is. He can easily find out who her family is if he doesn't know already.  
What if he threatens her family to make her do things she doesn't want to?

The panic she just barley got under control rises again, making it hard to breathe.

What if he make her choose between killing someone she cares about herself or letting the League kill them?  
Sara wouldn't put it past someone who carelessly slaughters his own men.

Think, Sara, think. Concentrate.

She could try to bargain with the Demon's Head that her family stays unharmed no matter what.  
But who knows if the leader of a group of assassins would keep his word - if he agrees at all - and she just can't involve her family in this.  
Asking for her family to stay unharmed would give the Demon's Head the perfect tool to bend her to his will.  
But knowing calculating people like Ra's al Ghul there is no way he doesn't how important her family is to her anyway.  
And who says he won't go after them even after she's dead.  
If he wants to hurt them there is nothing she can do about it.

Swallowing hard, Sara chokes back a sob as hot tears spill down her cheeks, crying in complete silence just like she taught herself after the Gambit went down.

This just isn't fair! Her family shouldn't have to pay for her mistakes!  
She's trying to be better but how can she if everything is set up against her?

Ra's al Ghul knew who she was from the beginning. And Nyssa said something about her is different. Maybe he has been keeping tabs on the whole Lance family for months or even longer.

Sara feels her stomach churning and her chest becomes too tight to breathe at the thought of her family being forced into this life after she is gone.

What if they make Laurel take her place?  
What if they torture her mom to motivate Laurel?  
What if they make her dad watch as his daughter is turned into a mindless killer?

What if Sara does join the League after all and her family finds out she chose that life?

The pain, disgust and hatred in their eyes so vivid in her mind. And they would be right.  
They would be right to hate her.

Pressing her hands over her face, Sara shuts her eyes so tightly she begins to see stars.

But the worst thing is that they would forgive her. Her dad would be disappointed, her mom would feel guilty, Laurel would be hurt, but they would somehow find it within themselves to work it out and forgive her eventually. For sleeping with Ollie, for aiding Anthony in his experiments, for the decisions she made on the island, for trying to survive at the cost of others to get back home…  
She wouldn't deserve it but they would forgive her. Because they are good people.  
And she just wants to use the rest of her life to make it right again.

But taking up Ra's al Ghuls offer, making the choice to live on like them - there is no forgiving for that.

This can't be happening! There has to be a way out of this! I just want to go home!  
This denial-mantra feels like a deja vu. How many times has she had these exact same thoughts in the last year?

All because she got on that fucking boat!

There are so many things the Demon's Head could do to her family that are much, much worse than just killing them.  
And she can't to anything against him. She can't protect them.

She can't protect them from getting killed or from getting hurt. She can't protect them from living to see their daughter and sister become a killer, she can't protect them from grieving for her death.  
It doesn't matter whether she dies or lives. People will get hurt because of her when all she ever wanted is to be able to protect the people she loves.

I bet Nyssa could do it. She could've saved Oliver and stopped Anthony and prevented Slade from ever becoming out of control.

There's a short flash of wanting and longing to be like Nyssa or any members of the League. She just doesn't want to feel this helpless and out of control anymore.

She can almost imagine it; being clad in black from head to toe as she lurks in the shadow, always one step ahead of everyone.

But that's what Ra's al Ghul wants her to do. He wants her to become like them.  
She should absolutely not do anything Ra's al Ghul wants!

But what choice does she have?

She can stay alive and learn how to fight and put everyone she loves at risk but maybe some day she'll be able to protect them.  
Or she can die and not be able to protect her family against people like Ra's al Ghul and Slade and Anthony at all.

It's logical, right?

But Sara knows it's that selfish need to live that has got an unshakeable grip on her.

It makes her want to throw up.

How can she choose death and pain and torture and violence?  
She's been there. She knows it's not a life worth living.

So why can't she just turn her back on it? She should just be able to turn her back on it, to end it once and for all.

Because she needs the chance to make up for the horrible things she did.  
Because she still believes she can get through this somehow and go home.  
Because she's still a naive, little girl that believes in happy endings.

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 **A/N I'm not sure about this chapter. It kind of feels like I'm trying to squish all of the emotional conflict into less than 2k words. If this was an actual book I'm pretty sure it would be cut but it isn't and I did start this fic to explore Sara's thoughts and emotion, so yeah.**  
 **Let me know what you think and if you like you can check out my LoT fanart for inktober on instagram cathybell_art :)**


	16. Ideas

**A/N WHO IS EXCITED FOR SEASON FOUR OF LEGENDS OF WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK IS GOING ON**

 **(seriously the trailer alone is crazy, I love this show)**

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Sara is exhausted. She barley sleeps, tossing and turning the whole night, her mind somewhere between dozing off and fully alert the whole time.  
And when she does sleep nightmares haunt her until she jolts awake, determined not to take up the League's offer to join them and let these picture become true.

Pictures of her standing in a cemetery full of freshly dug graves with dirt still sticking to her hands.  
Laurel crying blood out of her eyes over the lifeless bodies of their parents.  
Or Anthony sewing his hand back on his arm like he's Frankenstein and the monster all at once.  
Scenes of running through the forest of the island as the ghosts of Oliver, Shado, Slade, Anthony, Anatoly, Allision, Hendrick, Peter, Thomas and all the others whispering in her ear that none of this would've happening if it wasn't for her.

Maybe nightmares is the wrong word, she isn't really sleeping after all.  
Her body is on full alert, but panic and hope cling more and more heavily to her chest with each horror scenario that her mind makes up as she argues back and forth with herself if maybe, perhaps there is a possibility that she can live after all.

In her feverish fight between wanting to live and wanting to do the right thing there is one kind of imagine that's worse than the others.  
The sickening guilt from her past mistakes is nothing new, nor is the desperation and panic from being helpless to protect the ones she cares about.  
But the thrill of imagining that for once she'll be in charge - that Sara can't handle.  
She should absolutely not feel satisfaction or excitement at the thought of Ra's al Ghul teaching her how to catch an arrow mid air, of tipping Anthony's chin up with the edge of a sword as he's shaking with fear, of dodging each and every attack from Slade with ease until he's dropping to his knees in defeat.  
Of standing unarmed between her family and the League of Assassins and knowing that they would loose in a fight against her.

Sara wonders if maybe the water from the Lazarus Pit has side effects after all.  
If this is how Slade felt it's no wonder he went insane.

She doesn't know how but somehow the times passes quicker than expected even when nothing but nightmares help her pass the time.

There's a faint rustling sound outside the door that she somehow picks up on and once again her body springs into action without her conscious decision. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registers how the still healing skin on the soles of her feet screams in protest.  
Sara expects another escort but instead one person opens the door, drops a tray of food on the ground and closes the door again without another word.

That's it?

Suspicions and paranoia creep up her neck as she's frozen in spot. Her heart is hammering against her chest as she waits for something else to happen.

But nothing does.

That's it, she's had it!

Ignoring the food, she grabs the glass bottle and gulps down the rest of the water.  
With the empty bottle in her hand she looks around the room until her eyes fall on the pillow. As if on auto pilot she takes the pillow and stuffs the empty bottle into the pillow case.  
Sara doesn't stop to make sure no one is able to hear her before smashing the bottle wrapped up in the pillow on the bed frame as hard as she can. If someone is standing outside, she needs to be as quick as possible. If not, it doesn't matter anyway.  
The muffled sound of glass shattering is more satisfying than she likes to think about.  
Peering into the opening of the pillow case Sara's heart sinks. Carefully she fishes out the only piece of glass that's big enough to be useful, tiny shards pricking into her skin.  
The piece is thin but as long as her hand from her wrist to her fingertips. And the edges are sharp. Too sharp to properly hold it in her hand.

An idea flashes through her mind and before she can reconsider, Sara makes a cut along the edge of the pillow case with the shard but quickly decides to rip the stripe of fabric off instead of risking to cut herself.

If I'm bleeding they'll know something is up.

They probably know anyway.

After wrapping the fabric around one end of the broken piece of glass and securing it with a knot she holds her makeshift dagger in her hand.  
Adrenalin rushes through her body at the sight.  
But she doesn't give herself time to dwell on the feeling.

Sara looks down her body, considering how and where to hide the self-made weapon.  
She needs a safe, quickly accessible and easy to conceal hiding place.  
There's no way she could tug it down her bra without it being obvious or hurting herself like she has done quite a few times with money, her ID or even her phone when she went to clubs.  
Her clothes have no pockets.  
She can't put it up the loose three-quarter sleeves of her shirt or secure it in the waistband of her pants. The soft leather shoes are low cut and not boots she could tug it in.

An idea flashes through her.

She rips another piece of fabric from the pillowcase, a wider strip this time, working almost quickly enough to conceal the shaking of her hands.  
Carefully Sara places the pillow back on the bed, the side with the glass and torn edge facing downward, heart beating hard in her chest as she hides the evidence.

Not giving herself the time to reconsider she pulls her left pant leg up and wraps the extra fabric around her calve. Once to protect her skin before placing the shard against it on the inside of her leg. And a second time to secure it before tying it off. The fabric isn't quite long enough to cover the whole length that isn't wrapped in fabric already, the very tip of it is pressing against her skin. But it's hidden underneath her pants, feels secure enough to walk around with it and loose enough to be able to pull the dagger out.

The weapon feels like a reassuring presence against her leg.

Sara picks up the food tray and carries it to the bed before sitting down facing the door.  
She doesn't know what posses her but after one glance at the food – some fruit and a couple of nutrition bars - she grabs the energy bars and stuffs two of them down the front of her shirt and into her bra. The plastic scratches but surprisingly they aren't noticeable underneath the loose shirt.

She'll need to eat on the run.

The corner of her mouth turn downward and she swallows hard.  
As if she'll get out of this.

Still she leaves the energy bars where they are as she eats the rest of the food with her eyes glued to the door as she waits for something to happen.

Sara can't even begin to express how sick and tired she has become of waiting.

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 **A/N Sara is ready to fight back. And that spirit might just be the thing that Ra's al Ghul is after.**

 **You guys, I'm all out of pre-written chapters and I have a workshop the whole next week, so the next chapter will probably be a few days late.**  
 **Hopefully the new LoT episode will give me a creativity boost.**  
 **No, let me specify that; I need a Sara Lance creativity boost because I've been getting enough of DarhkAtom lately and I don't know where that obsession suddenly came from.**  
 **So yeah, as always let me know what you think, dm me if you wanna rant about the new season because I won't be able to see more than gifs on tumblr until the release date in Germany next year.**


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